Emma

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘Who knows?’ Mrs Henty frowned. ‘I thought it was odd when I heard she’d gone off without a word. She was in the shop on Friday morning, putting a deposit on a new dress she fancied.’

  I felt the sickness rise in my throat. I had thought it strange when Gran said Sheila had gone off somewhere. It hadn’t made sense. Not after the way Sheila had been talking that morning in the shop.

  ‘How was she murdered?’

  ‘I don’t know the details,’ Mrs Henty said. ‘I’ve only just heard about the body being found.’

  ‘So it could have been suicide,’ my mother said. ‘If she was in trouble she might have taken her own life.’

  ‘From what I’ve heard the police think it was murder,’ said Mrs Henty with a shake of her head. ‘It’s a terrible thing, whatever happened. Poor girl. She might not have been all she ought, but she didn’t deserve this.’

  ‘No, indeed she didn’t,’ Mother said. ‘There’s a good many girls have done as much or worse, I dare say.’

  Mother and I walked home in silence. Just before we got to the shop, I turned to look at her.

  ‘Do you think it was murder, Mum – or suicide?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I expect it will come out at the inquest. Poor girl. I liked Sheila, despite her flighty ways. I don’t like to think of her ending her life in the river, however it happened.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Nor do I.’

  Suddenly, my own problems seemed much less than I’d thought. After all, it was only a week since I’d seen Paul. He would probably be in touch soon. He loved me. He had said it so many times. He must mean it – mustn’t he?

  The local paper was full of the story the next week. The dead girl had been identified as having lived in Peterborough; she had been visiting friends in the area and a man had been taken in for questioning and then released. So far the police had no further clues about the attack on her.

  ‘It’s a terrible thing – but thank goodness it wasn’t Sheila,’ my mother said when I took the newspaper up to show her that morning. ‘It makes you wonder where she has gone, though, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. I’m relieved – but I keep wondering why she went off so suddenly. Eric came into the shop this morning. He asked me if I’d any idea of where she might have gone. He seemed really upset. I suppose he had been worried in case it was her.’ I was thoughtful. ‘He said she used to talk about me a lot. I think he really cares about her, Mum. Perhaps he’s wishing they hadn’t broken up now.’

  ‘You said they’d had a row?’

  ‘She was a bit upset over it – but not miserable enough to do anything silly. At least, she didn’t seem that way to me.’

  ‘Maybe she decided she’d had enough of this town. If she was having a baby—’ Mother frowned, ‘—she might have gone away to have it. To avoid the gossip.’

  ‘Yes, she might.’

  I turned away, biting my lower lip. I was definitely late with my period. What was I going to do if I had fallen for a baby? My mother would be disappointed and hurt – and my father would kill me!

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Mother asked, looking at me anxiously. ‘You’ve been a bit quiet recently. Is it because Paul hasn’t been in touch?’

  ‘I expected him before this,’ I admitted, only just managing to keep my voice steady. ‘I know he’s busy, but …’

  ‘He’ll come.’

  ‘Will he?’ Looking directly at her, I saw the love and concern she could not hide. ‘You warned me not to expect too much, didn’t you?’

  ‘I was only being cautious.’ She gave me a comforting smile. ‘Paul cares about you, darling. It shows when he looks at you. Besides, he wouldn’t have taken you to meet his mother if he didn’t. He’s probably just too busy.’

  I longed to blurt out the truth but was afraid of the consequences. And besides, it was only a week and a half since I’d seen Paul, though it seemed much longer. He was sure to come soon.

  ‘I’d better get back to the shop,’ I said. ‘I only popped up to tell you the news.’

  ‘I’m glad you did,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t want to think of Sheila ending up in the river – though it’s a shame about that other poor girl. The police don’t seem to know what happened – or why.’

  ‘I’m sorry for her, of course I am, but I can’t help thinking about Sheila. It’s a bit of a mystery where she has gone, isn’t it?’

  I was thoughtful as I went back downstairs. I wished Sheila would walk into the shop the way she used to. I would have liked to talk to her, perhaps confide in her.

  ‘There you are!’ Father was putting an envelope into his pocket as I went into the shop. He glared at me, seeming angry for some reason. ‘I’m going out, Emma. I’ve a bit of business to take care of. Look after things here while I’m gone.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Ben pulled a face at me behind his back.

  ‘He’s in a rare old mood this morning,’ he said as Father went out, closing the door with a snap. ‘Must have got out of bed the wrong side – or maybe it was that letter. It seemed to annoy him, whatever it was.’

  I could only agree about Father’s mood. His temper hadn’t improved of late. I had noticed him rubbing at his chest several times and thought he might be feeling unwell. He ought to visit the doctor, of course, but it was no use telling him that, because he wouldn’t listen.

  ‘I think we’ll do some stock checking, Ben,’ I said. ‘We’re getting short of stationery and need to re-order. Go on then!’ I gave him a little push in the right direction and turned as a customer came in. ‘Oh!’

  For a moment as I waited to serve the customer my heart missed a beat. It was Paul’s cousin. I was certain of it, even though I had only seen him for a few seconds at the Greenslades’ house that afternoon. My mouth was dry and I felt breathless. Was something wrong with Paul? Had his cousin come to bring me a message?

  ‘Hello.’ There was a puzzled look in his eyes, as if he had recognized me but couldn’t quite place me. ‘I know this is an awful cheek, but I haven’t come in to buy anything. I’m looking for the offices of Barker, Barker and Dobson. They’re a small firm of solicitors.’

  ‘Yes, I know them.’ Should I mention Paul, or would it look forward? ‘Keep on down the High Street and turn left at the end. You can’t miss it: there’s a big sign.’

  ‘I work with a firm of solicitors in London,’ he said, seeming inclined to linger. ‘Barker’s have asked us to take a case for them. As I was coming this way I said I would look in on them personally. It’s better than phone calls or letters, don’t you think?’

  I nodded. My heart was beating very fast. I wanted to ask him about Paul but somehow couldn’t. He’d seemed angry when he’d seen me at the Greenslades’ house. He might think it impertinent of me if I asked questions.

  ‘I think I will have a packet of fruit drops,’ he said, hesitating for a moment. I thought he was on the verge of saying something else, but he just handed me the money over the counter. ‘Thank you – and for the directions. Miss Robinson, is it?’ I nodded. ‘Good morning.’

  I stared after him as he went out. What an idiot I was to just let him go. Why couldn’t I have been natural, asked after Paul in a casual way? Yet to do so would have seemed as if I were running after Paul and I wasn’t reduced to that yet. Not quite.

  I was almost certain I was having Paul’s baby now. I was three weeks late. I stared at my pale face in the dressing mirror. Did it show? I’d heard people say you could tell when a woman was pregnant by something in their eyes, but didn’t know if it was true or just an old wives’ tale.

  What was I going to do?

  I was so frightened! I hadn’t slept well for over a week. Every time someone came into the shop I jumped, thinking it might be Paul. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come as he’d promised?

  I had thought about writing to him, but when I tried it all looked so awful on paper. How could I say, ‘I’m pregnant, please come and marry me before my father finds out�
�? It was impossible. I needed to talk to him, to see his smile … to hear him say he loved me.

  Tears stung my eyes. I had really believed him when he said it … when he’d told me we would be married very soon.

  I would never have let it happen if I hadn’t trusted him. Why had I? I’d known it was wrong. How dangerous it could be, particularly for me.

  My father would kill me when he found out.

  I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear to look at myself in the mirror, couldn’t bear the thought of what everyone would say … of all the gossip and sniggers behind my back.

  Gran would help me! I could ask for one of her special cures. But supposing Paul came back after I’d done it? How could I tell him I had killed his child?

  I didn’t want to kill my baby. I wanted to marry Paul and have the child as his wife.

  If he knew I was pregnant he would marry me. Of course he would. He loved me. Hadn’t he told me so? I was sure he would marry me if he knew.

  ‘Where are you, Paul?’ I whispered into the darkness as I turned out my light and crawled into bed. ‘Why don’t you come? Please come. I need you.’

  Why hadn’t he tried to contact me? If he was too busy he could surely have written. Was he ill?

  I wished now that I’d found the courage to ask his cousin if he was ill. He had looked quite nice. Not handsome like Paul, of course, but nice. I had been silly to let the opportunity slip.

  I had to do something. I couldn’t just let things drift. I had to see Paul, talk to him. He was sure to do what was right when he knew … and if he didn’t? A shudder went through me. I couldn’t bear to think about that, not yet.

  Paul loved me. He would marry me. Of course he would!

  I came to a decision. If he wasn’t waiting for me in church the next morning, I would catch a train and go to his house the following Wednesday afternoon.

  The next few days were the longest of my life. I had been sure Paul would be in church that Sunday, but he wasn’t. He didn’t come to the shop that week either.

  Had he deliberately deserted me? Perhaps he’d had an accident. I convinced myself it was the latter. Paul wouldn’t break his promise without a good reason – would he? He had gone to so much trouble to get me to go out with him. Surely he must have cared for me a little!

  Did he think I was cheap because I’d let him make love to me? My father spoke of girls who were easy with contempt, dismissing them as trash. Did Paul think I was easy?

  All I felt like doing was weeping, but I couldn’t, not during the day. I was terrified that my father would suspect something, but he seemed preoccupied with his own concerns. I’d noticed him grimacing a few times, as though in pain.

  Mother had guessed there was something wrong, though. I had seen the worried expression in her eyes. Sometimes I thought telling her would be even worse than telling Father. He would be angry, but Mother would be upset.

  Oh, why had I been such a fool?

  On Wednesday morning I was up early. I had all my jobs done before I went upstairs to change into my green costume.

  ‘Wearing your best costume to visit Gran?’ Mother gave me a long, hard look as I came out of the bedroom.

  ‘Yes. She asked to see it.’ My cheeks felt warm as I avoided her eyes. ‘I might go for a walk afterwards. Don’t worry if I’m a little late back.’

  ‘Emma – is there something I should know? You would tell me, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I’m going to see Paul. I’m going to find out if it’s over.’

  ‘Emma …’ She looked at me sadly. ‘Don’t run after him, love. Don’t lower yourself that way.’

  ‘I have to.’ My voice almost broke. ‘I have to, Mum. I love him.’

  I ran down the stairs and went out the back way. Mother called for me to come back but I ignored the request. I had to see Paul again, even if it was for the last time.

  I just had to!

  I took a taxi from Cambridge station out to Paul’s house. It was extravagant and cost most of the money in my purse, but I was too restless to wait for a bus and I thought it might be a long way to walk.

  It would have taken ages. I hadn’t realized it was as far out of town as this – at least five or six miles. Looking ruefully at the few pennies left in my hand, I knew I would have to walk back to the station. I hadn’t enough money left for a bus, let alone a taxi. But perhaps Paul would take me – or at least provide the money for my fare.

  What would he say when I turned up uninvited at his house? Perhaps I ought to have written first, just to say I was coming. I had attempted it once or twice but didn’t know how to express my feelings on paper. I couldn’t just demand that he marry me, even though he had given me his promise.

  Why had he changed his mind?

  It was quite warm now, the air rather heavy as though there might be a storm later. I felt a little sick as I walked past the tennis courts. Supposing Paul wasn’t here? I hadn’t considered that – but now I thought it might be better, less embarrassing. I could leave a message asking him to contact me.

  I was almost at the house. Ought I to go round to the main door – or the French windows Paul had used when he brought me here?

  I stopped walking as I saw the windows were open. Two women were standing just inside the house, and, as I hesitated uncertainly, they came out. I knew at once that they had seen me. It was too late to retreat. I had to go on.

  As I got nearer I saw that one of them was obviously the lady of the house and the other a servant – probably the housekeeper.

  Paul’s mother was staring at me fixedly. It had to be her! I could see a certain likeness in their features. Besides, her manner made it clear that this was her territory.

  My mouth went dry. I felt faint, my head swimming. How unfortunate that Mrs Greenslade should witness my arrival! I’d hoped the door would be answered either by Paul himself or a maid.

  Mrs Greenslade looked extremely angry. I sensed her hostility even before she spoke.

  ‘Who are you? Why have you come here?’

  I was taken aback by the ferocity of her opening words. I couldn’t answer immediately. She was formidable: a tall, thin woman with greying hair and sharp features. She was wearing a dark green gored skirt, a white linen blouse and a black fitted jacket. Her shoes were the kind of heavy lace-ups my mother wouldn’t have been seen dead in.

  ‘I …’ I took a deep breath and licked my lips nervously. ‘I’ve come to see Paul. Please – would you tell him I’m here?’

  ‘You little slut!’ Mrs Greenslade’s mouth thinned. ‘How dare you come here? I suppose you thought I believed your filthy lies about my son? Well, let me tell you, I’ve dealt with your sort before and you’ll get nothing here. I threw your letter into the fire as it deserved.’

  ‘What lies? What letter?’

  I took an involuntary step backwards as she moved threateningly towards me. What was she talking about? I hadn’t written to her or Paul.

  ‘My son isn’t here,’ she went on. ‘He’s away, but that makes no difference. If you try to blacken his name I’ll have you in court before you know where you are. And as for my son promising you a thousand pounds—’ Mrs Greenslade seemed to swell up like an angry toad. ‘I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. Just take yourself off and don’t try blackmailing me or my family again.’

  ‘I haven’t. I wouldn’t—’ I stared at her in dismay. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t written any letter. I just want to see Paul. He loves me. We are going to be married …’

  The words died on my lips as I saw the scorn and hatred in her face. There was no point in trying to tell this woman anything. She had obviously mistaken me for someone else, but even if she had let me speak the result would have been the same. Paul’s mother despised me for being what I was – a girl from a class lower than her own, someone who didn’t belong in a house like this. And she was right. Of course she was right. I’d known it instinctively when Paul brought me here. I
could never be a part of this family and had been fooling myself to believe for one moment I could.

  I raised my head, looking at Mrs Greenslade with a quiet dignity. ‘Please tell Paul that Emma Robinson was here,’ I said. ‘I have no wish to blackmail him or anyone else – but I do wish to speak to him. It is quite important.’

  For a moment she looked uncertain, as if she realized she had made a mistake.

  ‘What did you say your name was?’

  ‘Emma Robinson.’ I smiled slightly. ‘Paul will know – if you tell him.’

  I turned and walked away, head high, knowing that she was disconcerted. She had mistaken me for someone else but it made no difference. I could not think my reception would have been any warmer if Mrs Greenslade had known the truth.

  Chapter Six

  Pride kept me going until I was out of sight of the house, then the awfulness of it hit me and I gasped, feeling as if someone had punched me in the stomach. Paul wasn’t going to marry me. He had never had any intention of doing so … all his sweet talk and promises had simply been for one thing.

  I could hear Father’s voice in my head, ranting on about the kind of girl who dropped her knickers for the price of a few drinks or a cheap present.

  ‘Girls like that deserve all they get.’ He had said it over and over again in my hearing. ‘Cheap little whores, that’s what they are. Fools! No man respects a girl who lets him do what he wants just like that.’

  Tears stung my eyes, flowing over and running down my cheeks. I was powerless to stop them. I felt sick and dizzy – cheap! Paul must have thought I was easy. I had never tried to hide the fact that I wanted to go out with him, wanted him to kiss me. I had returned his kisses with all the natural warmth and loving in my heart, believing that he loved me.

  ‘Oh, Paul,’ I wept bitterly, stopping to lean against the trunk of a tree as a storm of emotion swept over me. ‘Paul … Oh, Paul … how could you? How could you do this to me?’

  My heart felt as if it were being torn apart. I wanted to lay down where I stood and die. What was the point in living when Paul didn’t love me, had used me, deserted me? Even my fear of discovery had faded into insignificance besides my grief. I loved Paul … loved him so much. How was I going to bear this?